This is Monday Morning Smut for you all. Except me, who is on SPRING BREAK! I rock. And Shana, who is still awake.

Oh, and this has not been betaed. It has not been spell checked. It has not been read a second time. If I didn't notice the little red squiggly line that Word puts under fake words, then I left it wrong. It's late, and my brain is mush.

Okay?

~*~

The masks were made to hide things--to hide a lot of things. But you know it's the Jedi as soon as he starts his strut across the open space, his panther prowl taking him to you.

The masks can hide many things, but nothing can hide the sensuous aura that thrives around this man. And nothing can hide the muscular build of his body, emphasized by the tight fit of his clothing in the flickering firelight.

The game is almost played out, and for a few fleeting moments you regret the fact that the entertainment of the last few months is coming to an end. No more relentless teasing of this man's iron control . . . no more poking and prodding at that Jedi calm. He's had enough, and the night's festival--the Festival of Masks--gives him the opportunity he needs to make the final move in this game.

Time for a new game to begin. A game of flesh and sighs and need and lust and, above all, passion. Too much passion to comprehend.

He is standing before you now, hands braced on his hips, face covered in a graceful mask. He has chosen a most appropriate mask, one of the beloved jaguars. The sleek feline beauty strikes chords deep within you as he extends a hand, the gesture nothing of invitation and everything of command.

For a moment you consider resisting, toying with the idea of stretching his torment out. The higher you build the tension, the more dramatic the fall will be . . . and how you long to fall into him.

He sees the hesitation in your eyes--and before you know it you are in his arms, clasped tightly against a hard body. His low growl tells you everything you need to know--there will be no more games--unless they are games of the flesh. His flesh and your flesh . . . binding together into ecstatic bliss.

The music starts, but he hardly seems to notice as his steps lead you farther and farther away from the dancing. The firelight fades as he pushes you step after stumbling step out of the circle of dancing, back towards the woods. Towards the darkness.

"Why do you torment me so?" The low growl is ripped from his throat as he pauses, crushing your body to his. Shifting against him you can feel the hardness pressing painfully into your thigh, your movement dragging a low groan from him. His need . . . it's overwhelming. Overpowering.

Empowering. You have caused this . . . his need for you. No matter how in control he is of the situation . . . no matter how out of control he gets . . . it's you. For you, because of you . . . because he needs you. Wants you. Because deep in the farthest depths of his being, he wants your pleasure like he wants nothing else.

A heady feeling. An addictive feeling. A feeling that belongs to him and only him. No one else could get away with this . . . get away with stripping your control away and claiming you as their own. But his need for you, his need for your pleasure and your desire and you yourself . . . You could forgive him many things for that.

Many things.

Your back collides with a tree suddenly, his body still pressing into yours. You can feel every inch of him as he rubs himself against you, much like the cat whose face he hides behind. Your own mask, the shape of a hawk, flutters to the ground as long fingers plunge into your hair, sliding up to cup the back of your head. His body continues to rub slowly against yours as he growls, fingers carding through your hair with surprising gentleness.

His mask follows yours, dropping to the ground as he frees one hand to tug it carelessly off of his head. Green eyes blaze to life in the darkness as he lowers his face, sinking it into the hair spilling over your shoulders. A low, feral growl breaks free of his throat as his lips slide apart, his rough tongue sweeping out to drag up your neck.

His hands slide down your body, awakening your nerves to his touch even through the layers of fabric. Sliding back up, his hands unclasp your cloak and pull it from your shoulders, backing away from you long enough to spread it out on the ground.

Your back hits it only a few moments later, his body sliding on top of yours as he grinds you back into the soft grass, the rough fabric of your cloak dragging against your bare arms.

"I need you," he growls, voice low as he raises himself to his hands and knees above you. "No more teasing. No more playing. The game is up . . . and I need you."

He doesn't wait for a response--not that you're in any state to give one. Callused hands slide over your body, tugging roughly on the buttons of your shirt until they give, sliding the fabric from your shoulders. A hot mouth lands on your collarbone, his moans vibrating against your skin as he laves heated kisses to your trembling skin.

His hands drag against your skin again as he pulls the shirt up over your head, tossing it away as his burning gaze drags back across your body, bare from the waist up and trembling in anticipation of his touch.

A slow smile curls on his lips as he lowers his mouth to your breast, the tip of his tongue sliding out to trace teasing circles around the sensitive nub. You arch up into him, his only response a low chuckle as he pulls back, refusing to give you the harder caress you need.

One finger slides up your side, tracing the outline of your breast as he lowers his head again, this time trapping your nipple in the hot cavern of his mouth, teeth tugging at it oh so gently. Your voice tears free of you in a low moan, body twisting as his fingers begin stroking you in time with his suckling.

 Your hands slide up to tangle in his hair, but the minute they touch him his mouth recedes. You cry out in loss, eyes flying open as you stare up at his face, the planes shadowed in the dim light.

"What--"

"I need you," is the harsh groan as one large hand traps both of yours, pinning them to the ground right above your head. "If you touch me--I'm lost."

"I want you to be lost," you groan, arching your body towards him. "Why else would I have been teasing you the last few months. Why else would I be doing this? I. Want. You. Out. Of. Control." Wrenching one hand free of his grasp, you tangle it in his hair and pull his face down to yours. "Lose the Jedi bit, Kenobi. Take me."

His hand snaps up to drag yours away, pressing it back to the ground. "Don't play with me," he growls low in his throat. "You have no idea what you're attempting to unleash. If you were wise--"

"I'd have jumped your bones when you first set foot on this planet," you interrupt, reaching up with your legs and tangling them around his hips. "So I'm not wise. Got a problem with that?"

"Yes," he hisses, lowering his face to your ear, tongue swiping out before his teeth grasp your earlobe, tugging slightly. "Yes I have a problem with that."

"What is it?" you gasp, arching your hips up into his.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Don't try to make me." His voice is rough as he slides his lips up across your cheek, his mouth landing on yours for the first time.

The kiss is wild, passionate. Brutal. His tongue swipes through your mouth, claming every inch of it for his own. Tangling with yours, drawing muffled cries from your throat as he plunders you, mouth sliding across your own. The kiss drags on and on, deepening until your muffled whimpers are echoed by his own, deeper moans.

Sick of foreplay, you reach down to the clasp of your own pants, undoing it quickly and beginning to wriggle out of the restraining fabric even as his tongue plunges into your mouth again, drawing a harsh sound of need from deep within you. One large hand slides down your body to help, sliding across the flinching flesh of your thigh as he tries to shove them down your legs.

He finally breaks away from your mouth with a muffled curse, pulling back to tear the troublesome garment from your legs. Scrambling to a kneeling position, you attack his mouth again, sealing your lips over his as you franticly tug on the buttons to his shirt.

Hot skin is revealed to your hungry hands, skin stretched taunt across rippling muscles. His mouth tightens under yours as your fingers brush pebbled nipples, eliciting a harsh moan from his throat. His body surges back against yours, pushing you back into the ground, the feeling of skin against skin electric.

Gasping frantically for breath, you squirm around until your stomach is pressed into the ground, your back pressed up against his chest. "Now," you hiss, fingers digging into the robe. "You said the game was over . . ."

He lets out a stuttered moan as his lips fall to your back, pressing a slow, hot kiss to the skin below your neck as he wraps an arm around your stomach, pulling you tight against his chest as he sits back into a kneeling position.

"Not yet," he growls in response, settling you so that you're sitting on his legs, your knees planted to the ground on either side of his own. A low moan tears from your throat as he lowers his lips to your throat, shoving your hair aside as he nibbles his way up the arch of your neck.

The arm around you tightens as his other hand slides slowly down your stomach, making no pretense about where it's headed. Your head slams back into his shoulder as his fingers slide between your wet folds, his breath becoming slightly ragged as he feels the extent of your desire.

"Please," you whimper, trying to push your hips up into his caress. The arm around your middle tightens, holding you in place as his fingers slide through your folds again, this time centering in on your pulsing bundle and massaging slowly. He is panting in your ear as he slides his fingers lower, parting his knees slightly drive your own legs farther apart.

A groan tears from your throat as two long fingers slick into you, twisting slightly as he feels your muscles clench slightly. Your body lurches forward, your hips straining upwards into his teasing caress.

Teeth scrape against your neck as his fingers slide into you again, crooking slightly as he searches for the spot to trigger the blinding flash of pleasure throughout your mind. You shift languidly against him, the feeling of his sweaty chest against your back doing strange things to you as his fingers coax you higher.

Another twist of his fingers and you're screaming suddenly as he moans in appreciation, lights flashing before your eyes as he strokes across that spot, fingers lingering slightly as he lets his teeth close gently on your shoulder, heated breath heaving against your skin. Despite the restraining arm around your waist, your hips fly into him, your entire body stretching taunt.

His fingers plunge into you one more time, scraping across the hungry spot he's discovered before they withdraw completely, as does he. You're left trembling on your hands and knees, keening softly with need as you hear him rise to his feet, the whisper of cloth telling you that his pants are dropping to the ground.

An arm wraps around you, spinning you around and pressing you back into the ground. There is no preamble, no teasing. One moment he's there, hovering above you, eyes wild. A low growl and his mouth is on yours, his length driving into you, splitting you, remaking you into a different creature as you arch up into him, screaming your pleasure and satisfaction into his mouth.

He pulls away from your lips, hovering for a few moments above your face as he grinds his hips into yours in slow, circling motions. "Do you know what need is?" he purrs, his lips against yours. He pulls back slightly, slamming his hips into yours again before he starts the grinding circles again. "Do you know what it's like to need someone like you need air?" His hips pull back again, a little farther, and you groan as he plunges back in.

He plants a hand on either side of your head, hovering above you as his hips circle again, his length stretching you almost unbearably as he grinds it into you. "Do you know what it's like to need someone so badly that they are a drug?"

Your body arches in supplication, your eyes flying open as you stare at the trees swaying above you. Obi-Wan pulls back, his hands clasping your thighs as he leads them up around his hips before sliding hot fingers back down to clench your hips. "Do you know what it's like to need?" he hisses, sliding out until only the tip of his erection is brushing your nether lips, his eyes wild in the semi-dark.

"Yes," you reply, arching up. "I need you."

He splits you again, driving deeply into you as you cry out faintly, your hands stretching up above your head, grasping at nothing, at anything. Something to anchor yourself too.

There is no anchor. You're tossed in the middle of a tempest, riding the wild bucking of his hips as his pace speeds up, the endless cycle of grinding circles followed by long, deep thrusts. You know that you are going to have the marks of his fingers imprinted on your hips in the morning, silent tribute to his rampant need as he pulls your body up to meet his thrusts.

"This is need," he growls, pulling your hips up farther. His length drives back into you, scraping across that greedy spot within you that cries for his touch, sparking lightning up your spine. He pulls back slightly, his voice rising in a low purr from his chest. "You need it, don't you?"

"Please." It's the only word you can say, the only word you remember. Your hands fly down to tangle in your robe, clinging to it desperately as his hips snap forwards again, scraping heat into you again.

You can't help it. Your voice erupts in a scream, a hoarse cry that could be his name, or could be a broken plea. All you know is that you need him, that you understand need for the first time . . .

He gives you what you need, his hips beginning to pump in earnest as one hand strays to massage circles around your pulsing nub. His voice rises with yours, broken groans with the desperately chanted plea, "Come for me, please baby, come."

You can't deny him anything. Arching your body up until nothing but your shoulders rest on the ground, your climax snaps over you as you let out a throat-rending scream, your hips rolling with his as he growls his gratitude.

His voice becomes strangled as your muscles pull at him coaxing stuttered moans from his throat as he follows you over the edge, heat exploding inside you as he continues to move within you.

You collapse side by side, his leg thrown over yours as he pulls you to him, his panting breath echoing in your ears. "I . . ." He pauses, swallows carefully, and then tries again. "I--"

You barely manage to lift your hand, you're so exhausted. But you do, and you let your fingers fall so that they're covering his lips. "Not now," you whisper, the words barely getting by your harsh breathing.

His lips caress your fingers. "But I have something to say," he whispers finally, his breathing still a little ragged.

You raise an eyebrow, letting your fingers fall from his lips.

"I need you," he purrs.

"Still?" You groan slightly, a groan that changes to a whimper as he shifts, reminding you that he's still buried within you.

"You don't stop needing someone just because you've had them," he responds, his voice a low purr.

"Kenobi," you reply, your eyes sliding shut. "You'll be the death of me."

"You need me," is the soft reply, and you can tell he's fading into sleep. You feel the edge of your robe slide up to wrap around you both, sheltering you from the outside air.

Need. It's a beautiful thing.

~*~

Fin